Symbiotic Fool
by Sandshrew777
Summary: Neville explains to us his feelings about love as it applies to his life. Written for the Reviews Lounge Valentine's Day Challenge. Neville/Ginny, Harry/Ginny. Canon compatible. One-shot.


**Author's Note: This wasn't supposed to be that long. Look what happens when plot bunnies take you over, folks. There may be some canon mistakes as I didn't have my books handy to double-check, but I did the best that I could with the Lexicon as my guide. **

**This was written in response to the Reviews Lounge Valentine's Day Challenge. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or any of its related indicia, and I'm not making money off of this. Nothing here belongs to me, except for my own imagination.

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They say that love is a fickle thing. It doesn't always know what it wants, but it knows what it doesn't want, and so it rejects those things with a forcefulness unrivaled by anything the world can create. Love, therefore, is stronger than a Hippogriff's trampling hooves, a giant's monstrous fists, and a Nundu's deadly breath.

It was upon recognizing those qualities that I decided, quite simply, that love was not something I wished to pursue actively. To me, love did not seem like a wondrous thing to embrace, but, rather, a horrible fate to be avoided at all costs. Love may be fragile, I knew, but it could break my heart.

With that philosophy in mind, I boarded the Hogwarts Express on that first day and never looked back. It wasn't as if I didn't like my family, but I realized that they were too stifling, too pigeon-holing, too "When you get done at Hogwarts you can go work for your cousin at the shop!", and I couldn't stand that, wouldn't stand that. Did anybody bother to ask me what I wanted to do with my life? Of course not. So I rejected the love of my family, seeing them only as helpful, useful allies, and began what should have been a jubilant train ride full of apprehension and barely-contained excitement with self-inflicted loneliness.

The hours passed with remarkable alacrity, considering my desolation. They should have taken forever, but Fate seemed to take pity on me, what with my remarkable skill in torturing myself, and made the train ride go all that faster.

Of course, it didn't hurt that my toad, Trevor, got loose. He always seemed anxious to leave my company in those early days, and despite my early efforts to contain him, he succeeded valiantly. After a while I stopped restricting him, remembering how my family had limited me, and we were both the happier for it.

My desolation was only interrupted by the appearance of some frizzy-haired, buck-toothed, wild-looking girl who introduced herself in seven long-winded sentences without stopping to take a breath. She looked like she needed something to do, so I informed her that my toad was missing and it would be nice if she could keep an eye out for it. Almost immediately she grilled me on Trevor's appearance and mannerisms, as if he were a wanted criminal and she was the investigator assigned to the case. I did my best and she seemed to be satisfied, moving out to scour the train post-haste. I didn't bother mimicking her actions; Trevor would come back to me when he needed to so that he could advance to Hogwarts. I was his ally, and he needed transportation out of me; I was willing to oblige.

The thought of disembarking and floating across the lake failed to impress me. I had seen pictures, read accounts of what was to come, and as such I was not really all that intimidated by anything. Besides, I had Trevor with me (the large man leading the boat brigade, Hagrid, had returned him to my care; I was relieved only because Trevor represented responsibility to me, and if I couldn't return in June with him safe and alive, I would never receive another boon from my familial allies again, and then of what use would they be to me?)

Thus, feeling quite prepared for just about anything and everything, I proceeded to my Sorting with confidence. It was obvious to me where I was going; I wasn't brave, wasn't smart, and I wasn't a Death Eater. The House of the Badger was to be mine, of that I was sure.

But the Hat seemed to think otherwise.

"Well, what do we have here? Not too bad upstairs, but you're not the type to read books for pleasure, are you? No, no, surely not. An acknowledgment of necessary resources, yes, indeed, but not enough drive to carry them out. There's certainly an argument to be made for Hufflepuff, though. Quite the hard worker when it comes to things you want, you are, Mr. Longbottom, and you're not afraid to stand up for the right way of things. That's admirable, indeed.

"But Hogwarts is a time to grow and learn, and I see something within you that I feel needs a little sunshine to help it grow. Yes, I think this is the best place for you, in the grand scheme of things.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat shouted at last.

I was so surprised that I forgot to take the Hat off of my head, but the entire room was kind enough to inform me of the fact, and so I quickly performed the necessary duty and found my seat with the Gryffindors. So much for Fate being on my side, I morosely conjectured at the time. How in the world was I ever going to fit in with a bunch of impulse-driven, plan-less, boisterous louts?

The answer was that I never truly did. Much of my time at Hogwarts was spent being downtrodden, which, really, was okay. Somebody had to be the bullied, and it might as well be me, because I can take it (and I even dished it back out, once or twice, but usually I kept that to a minimum, because when you make a name for yourself somebody always wants to tear it down). Some other people can't take being brutally teased like that, though, and if I could save them from the humiliating fate of hopping around the castle in a Leg-Locker Curse or nearly being eaten by a humungous three-headed dog, then I would do it, and do it with pride. People like the underdog, they root for him, I thought to myself during every embarrassing moment; therefore they would be more apt to give me aid when the difficult times arose.

As usual, my logic was infallible. When the time for exams came, people came to me with questions about Herbology, and I, in turn, received aid from my Housemates in Transfiguration and Potions. We never became a family, not really, just another group of allies thrust together because of trying circumstances, soon to disband when the threat of exams dissolved.

The years passed with relatively little incident. Although my Second Year was littered with mutterings about the Heir of Slytherin and that perhaps Harry was the one Petrifying all the students, I found myself strangely removed from the fear they purported.

First of all, I was a Pure-blood, and so the chances that the Heir of Slytherin would strike me were slim to none, even if the Heir was Malfoy. As I look back now on those days, I realize that Malfoy picked on me (and Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well) only because he was afraid of me. I was a Pure-blood (and so was Ron, even if he was a "blood traitor", as Malfoy put it), and so I was competition, in his eyes, for the Pure-blood girls of the school (Pansy was ugly, Ginny was hung-up on hero-worshipping Harry, Morag was a bit stuck-up, et cetera); how foolish and oddly prophetic he was, thinking that I would be interested in love! Hermione, of course, represented his most hated academic rival, and Harry was the epitome of goodness that he had been, I assumed, trained to either acquire as a subordinate or despise with all of his power. Malfoy chose the latter, the fool that he was, and it took him years to attempt to undo his choice. I pity the child that he was, now that I can see where it's gotten him.

Secondly, while I didn't know who the Heir was, I knew it wasn't Harry. Yes, he was a Parselmouth, but that didn't matter to me. I talk to my plants (it's a good thing, actually, as all Muggle plants and most Magical plants use carbon dioxide as a reactant in their form of cellular respiration instead of a product, so exhaling our carbon dioxide onto them actually helps them grow and produce oxygen; it's a symbiotic effect that I find fascinating), and nobody scorns me because of it. It's just another talent that Harry accumulated in his repertoire, and I don't fault him for wanting to hide that weapon. Even if it is helpful, I admit that it's still rather creepy.

Finally, I had this awkward feeling---if I had asked Lavender or Parvati, they would have instantly proclaimed that I had the Sight and I would never have lived that down, so of course I never mentioned it---that Fate was interfering, once again, on our part. The last time the Monster of Slytherin was released, it killed somebody: Moaning Myrtle. This time around, each new victim ended up Petrified, through one circumstance or another, and as each one rolled into the Hospital Wing, I felt more and more confident that Fate was smiling on us.

For my part, I was one of the students hand-picked by Professor Sprout to help harvest the Mandrakes. Although I'd had a bit of an accident with my earmuffs the first day (I'd never worn a pair in my life before, and I don't accomodate well to new things without having any previous knowledge of them), I showed remarkable acuity (her words, not mine) in the handling of even the most temperamental specimens, especially for a Second Year. Under her tutelage I learned a great many things that I pass down onto my charges today, but mainly her constant advice: "Mind the Venomous Tentacula, he's teething." There were always plants around the greenhouses that seemed almost sentient, but instead of being nefarious or harmful, they really just wanted to be tended to, like young children when they cry their heads off and you just want to strangle them because it's the most grating sound you'll ever hear in your lifetime. In essence, Professor Sprout wanted to teach her students that understanding was a knowledge no book could ever teach, and that sometimes you just had to get your hands dirty to learn it.

Even with that, Second Year flew past in a rush, and before I knew it, Third Year was upon me and so were the elective classes. Care of Magical Creatures sounded like an interesting concept, seeing as it would be a more active application of what I was learning in Herbology, and although I found that Divination was a bit of a crock, I did want to test out whether or not I had any aptitude in determining Fate's whims. I probably should have dropped the class after the whole teacup incident---I can't handle fragile things.

Third Year was much of the same regarding most things, though. I was still tortured by the Slytherins and Professor Snape, still helped Professor Sprout with the rest of the Herbology Club in the greenhouses, and still found myself uninterested by the House mumblings.

This time, it was rumors about Sirius Black that were abound, and I found myself not caring all that much, even after the whole incident with Ron's curtains. Black was after Harry, not me, and my bed was the furthest from Harry's in the room, so I probably wasn't going to have to worry about Black leaping in and holding me hostage at knifepoint (or wandpoint, if he procured a new one) or something ridiculous like that.

When Fourth Year brought the Triwizard Tournament to Hogwarts, I found myself in the midst of the typical teenage tribulations. The pretty Beauxbatons girls and rugged Durmstang boys seemed to jack the hormones in our House up through the roof. For a time, I wondered if Ron might be bisexual, given his fascination with Viktor Krum, but then I heard about the fracas between him and Hermione and suddenly it all made sense. How funny it would have been for me to inform Ron that he was acting just like Malfoy, at the time, jealous of competition that really didn't matter.

The announcement of the Yule Ball came of little surprise to me, having remembered from accounts of the Tournament from my allies back at home. I really hadn't planned on attending, until one day in the Gryffindor Common Room changed all that.

"Hey, Neville," Ginny greeted me, holding her Herbology work in her hands, "I've got no idea what all of these herbs are supposed to do for the fertilizer, and Sprout's got a big exam tomorrow. Can you help me out?" she asked.

"Sure thing. Take a seat," I offered, and she plopped down in one of the empty chairs at the table, heaving her things haphazardly around, trying to locate a list Professor Sprout had given for her to memorize. She found it after scouring through the crumpled parchment lodged every whichway in the text and handed it to me.

"This isn't too bad. There's some memory tricks you can do with these, actually, that makes it a lot easier," I confided. She gave me an thoughtful look.

"You use memory tricks for Herbology?" she echoed.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding, "Most of the herbs are really similar when you look at them, at first, and even once you've got the names sorted out, a lot of their properties are the same, so it's kinda hard without the tricks. I think they're called mnemonics, or something," I rambled. Ginny continued to give me that thoughtful look.

"So why don't you use them for remembering the password and stuff?" she asked, and seemed genuinely concerned. I shrugged.

"I guess I just never thought of it," I admitted, then returned to the list of herbs. "Okay, so basil. This one's a Muggle one, and probably the easiest way to remember it is to look at the stem..." I started.

We spent about a whole hour going over the herbs and my tricks for remembering them until Ginny could recite each of their names, distinguishing properties, uses in potions, appearance, and rarity with fluent ease.

"Thanks, Neville, you're a godsend," she gushed as she started to pack up her things.

"You're welcome, Ginny. It was my pleasure," I replied, blushing lightly at the compliment. I didn't get those a lot, but when I did, it was always for my Herbology prowess.

All packed up, Ginny hesitated for a minute, seeming to war with a sudden thought of hers.

"Neville, do you have a date for the Yule Ball?" she asked me suddenly. My head snapped up from my Charms work. I thought she was just being a malicious gossiper for a second until I realized that Ginny hadn't really come across like that, from what little time I'd spent with her. Besides, she was a Weasley, and Weasleys were generally no-nonsense about that sort of thing.

"No," I replied slowly, shaking my head.

"Would you...would you like to go with me?" she propositioned, rather timidly, "I know Third Years aren't allowed to go unless they're with someone older, but that's not why I'm asking you! I just wanted to do something nice for you since you helped me out with Herbology and all, and I couldn't think of a way with homework because we're not in the same Year, and it doesn't mean that I pity you or anything, Neville, because I really don't, it's just---" she blurted out, much like Hermione had that first day we met on the train.

I held up a hand, stopping her progress before she hyperventilated.

"Ginny, stop. I'll go with you," I agreed. Her face lit up like fairy lights on a Christmas tree and she practically bounced up out of her seat.

"Thanks, Neville! You're a peach," she told me, zipping off and up the girls' staircase.

Over the next two weeks, Ginny and I spent some more time together. We both decided that we were going as friends, and about a week into it I finally got her to confess that she had originally wanted to go because she wanted to show Harry how pretty she could look when she was all dressed up. She hastened to add that that wasn't the reason she had asked me, either, but I told her that I knew that and that I would be happy to help her try and win her man. Ginny's family didn't have a lot, monetarily; a familial ally like Harry would be a big help to them, from my most logical standpoint.

"You're a lot smarter than people think you are, you know, Neville," she said to me one night before picking up her books, wishing me a good-night, and heading upstairs. We had gotten to know each other better while doing homework, as it seemed to be the thing for us. What seemed to be the thing for Ginny, too, was giving compliments. I noticed during those two weeks that whenever somebody went by in a pretty outfit or a new hairstyle, Ginny would call out to them her approval, smiling brilliantly, and it seemed to brighten up their countenance as well. It was like she was some sort of happiness-spreading sprite, sometimes, although I knew she had the Weasley temper and I wasn't about to cross it.

The night before the Yule Ball, I had a very odd dream.

I was in the Gryffindor Common Room, all alone, in front of the fire on the best couch in the room. The portrait hole stirred, and in came Ginny, all smiles. She came over to me, sat down so that there was hardly a centimeter between us, leaned over, and snogged me silly.

She pushed open my lips with her tongue as her body pushed me back so that my head reclined against the armrest of the couch. I felt her hands roving across my body, slipping off my robes and unbuttoning the shirt I wore underneath it with nimble fingers. My own hands entwined in her hair, luxurious crimson tresses softer than a silk teddy bear.

She broke the kiss, and I moaned in displeasure. Then I opened my eyes to see the most devilish smile I'd ever seen on a person before, and I felt her hands moving for the waistband of my trousers.

The dream broke and I awoke, sitting up in my bed with a start. It was then that I noticed that other parts of my anatomy had decided to "sit up", as well. I ignored it the best that I could and rolled over, determined to get back to sleep, but my mind refused to let go of this new development.

By the time dawn came, I managed to snatch maybe three hours sleep, but I was rested and ready for the big day. I had decided to treat this dream as a manifestation of puberty, hormones, and lust, all at once. I acknowledged that Ginny was fit, and that my subconscious needed some figure to stimulate itself. It picked Ginny because we had been spending a lot of time together. She was simply the means to an end for that part of me, nothing more.

Then I saw her come down the stairs, looking like something out of a Victorian wedding, and my subconscious rebelliously kicked into overdrive. I think I managed to stutter out some compliment, applied her flower for her, gave her my arm, and strode down to the Ball with her in tow.

"Are Harry and Ron even close to being ready yet?" she asked me conspiratorally as we walked.

"Harry's okay, but he's trying to help Ron get rid of all the lace," I admitted. Ginny laughed, a tinkling sound that went straight to my anatomy. I promptly started naming the plants of Greenhouse Eight in my mind in clockwise order, starting with the edge-rows, and nearly missed hopping a trick step along the way.

The Ball went somewhat smoothly. Every time Ginny and I would be dancing, my subconscious reared up and started wondering stupid things, like if Ginny's hair was as soft as it thought it was, or if that perfume she was wearing was something she had chosen just for it. Casting them away with the plants of Greenhouses Two, Three, Four, and Nine made me trip several times, and though I apologized and meant it, I could tell Ginny was getting steadily annoyed, so I led her off of the dance floor for a while and got us some drinks.

Once, Harry past us while we were talking and walking aimlessly through the crowd, and I impulsively grabbed Ginny's hand, staking my claim for him to see and for her to marvel at slightly before she figured it out. He had made a move to come talk to us, but settled for a half-hearted wave, which both Ginny and I returned with salutes of our Butterbeer bottles. As soon as he disappeared into the throng of bodies, I released her hand and we continued to converse about the couples on the dance floor, including the surprisingly made-for-each-other Hagrid and Madame Maxime.

When we both decided that we had enough, about three hours in, we departed, heading up to Gryffindor Tower, still laughing and chatting easily. Soon we had to part paths at the staircases and Ginny turned to me.

"Thanks for going with me, Nev. I had a great time," she said, encapsulating me in a quick, fierce, friendly hug. I returned it with less ardor, but no less feeling.

"So did I. Have a nice night," I wished, breaking away with a smile.

"Sweet dreams!" she chirped, her heels tapping as she ascended.

As the year passed, Ginny and I continued to spend time together, as friends, helping each other with homework and whatnot. She would sometimes bring her dormmates over when neither of us could figure out a particularly vexing Astronomy star chart or a Transfiguration technique, but usually it was just the two of us.

The dreams came with quiet frequency, usually once a week, and I continued to tell myself that it was just a way for my libido to express its natural frustration and nothing more.

Just as the Third Task was closing in, Ginny and I were talking late into the night about what mysteries the maze might hold. I was convinced that Professor Sprout was going to be submitting a few of her most dangerous plants, including the beloved Venomous Tentacula, which she thought was a real softie once you got to know it. Ginny pointed out that Hagrid's skrewts were probably the most dangerous of them all, and I agreed, wholeheartedly. After a particularly long laugh at one of her impressions of Hagrid feeding his skrewts, a change came over her face. I recognized it; it meant that Ginny had a thought cross her mind and wasn't sure what to think about it quite yet.

"I think it's time to give up on Harry," she admitted quietly.

"You really think so?" I asked, and for some reason my subconscious thought this would be a great time to make my heart start pounding faster in my chest.

"Yeah, Nev, I think it is. I mean, I've been throwing him signals as big as Bludgers and he's not said or done anything yet, so I just don't think he's interested. Besides, I've...kind of had my eye on someone else," she confided, smiling shyly.

"Oh, really? And who's that?" I questioned, trying to act like the interested friend waiting for gossip. My subconscious reminded my eyes of where we were sitting: the plush red couch closest to the fireplace. My heart continued to speed faster and faster. My throat dried up. I could barely breathe as I waited for Ginny's response. Could that dream have been Fate's revelation of prophecy to me?

"Dean," she replied, "I really like his artwork and he seems really laid-back. Really dateable. Well, you know him better than I do, Neville, you've shared a dorm with him---is he an alright bloke?" she asked.

I was about as eager to answer that question as Harry must have been to think about walking into a maze with Hagrid's skrewts parading through it. Somehow, I found my voice to answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, Dean's a good guy. You should definitely give it a shot, Ginny," I advised, smiling.

Ginny squeezed my knee gently.

"You're a great friend, Neville, you really are. Thanks a bunch," she said, then got up and headed up the stairs to sleep.

In my head and in my heart, though, I knew that Ginny would never really be over Harry. When we learned of the news that the Triwizard Cup had been claimed, but that both Harry and Cedric were nowhere to be found (with Fleur and Krum eliminated from contention), I was rattled. The Cup was supposed to Portkey whomever touched it back to the opening stage, according to Gran, and then the other contenders left in the maze would be located by the patrollers so that the final ceremony could take place as soon as possible. But Harry wasn't here, and Cedric wasn't here, and the Cup was gone. What in the name of Merlin had happened?

Ginny was asking that too, and I remember squeezing her hand tightly as we waited. In fact, the entire Gryffindor contingent had taken up each other's hands: Ron was holding Hermione's, who was holding Dean's, holding Ginny's, holding mine, holding Lavender's, holding Parvati's, holding Seamus', and so on. Colin Creevey had formed a bridge between us and Hannah Abbott of the Hufflepuffs in the next section, and so both Houses were united as one, at last, by the mystery.

This was only broken when the two reappeared. Ginny jumped up from her seat at once, but she was locked in and couldn't get out in time to get down to Harry, so instead she let Dean and I encapsulate her instead. Ron and Hermione burst free from the stands somehow but couldn't get down to Harry's screaming form before Mad-Eye Moody, who led him away from the scene.

In the stands, both Houses consoled their own before Parvati, her make-up a nightmare due to her tears, turned to Ernie MacMillan and wrapped him up in a fierce hug. The barrier re-broken, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs united in grief over the fallen hero that was Cedric Diggory. I daresay that he would be proud of what his legacy wrought.

Fifth Year began with a more somber tone now that Voldemort had returned, but still there was time to laugh and to smile around Hogwarts. A major portion of that came with Harry's (later, I found, heavily influenced by Hermione) decision to start up the Defense Association in rebellion to Umbridge's theory-first uselessness.

It was during D.A. (nicknamed Dumbledore's Army by a particularly candid Ginny) that both Ginny and I came into our own, so to speak. Ginny found her affinity for offensive curses and hexes appreciated and even feared by the rest of the group. It also allowed her to establish a relationship with Michael Corner right underneath Harry's nose to further spark his jealousy (she never admitted this one to me, but I knew that's what she was doing); she decided against dating Dean after the events of the Third Task, but he was still certainly a consideration in her mind, she told me.

I, on the other hand, found that working with Harry every class allowed me to get a handle on defensive spells a lot easier than ever before. Now that I was expected to cast them and nobody would think different of me for doing so, I found that I was, actually, quite good at them. Offensive stuff really wasn't my thing, but I learned them and got better as we moved along. Once, I even managed to Stun Harry, although he wasn't really paying attention. I was hoping he would be staring at Ginny (how could he not, my subconscious asked), for her sake, but instead he was infatuated with the exotic Cho Chang, like usual.

The subterfuge was never more exciting that year than when we were able to help Harry with Umbridge. He and Hermione (who had been up to something, but I didn't know that at the time) had left with her, leaving the Inquisitorial Squad with us. They relaxed their guard, the fools, and in the middle of Malfoy's gloating about how he had finally won, Ginny suddenly spun in her captor's arms and had gotten a hex off. Then the chaos began. Every single one of our captors went for their wands, leaving us free to manuever. Luna kicked somebody in the crotch; Ginny put her Bat-Bogey Hex to great use. I was using my fists, like Ron, until I saw a wand roll across the floor, so I immediately snatched it up and got off two Disarming Spells that I think Harry would have been proud of, were he there to see them. They were the strongest I've ever managed to make them, actually, which was odd considering that it wasn't even my wand that I was using.

In the end, all of them were down, we were up, and then there was the matter of sorting out the wands, which was harder than we thought. Ginny found hers first, in my hand; she had been dual-wielding wands in the fight, ending up with Goyle's and mine. Luna's was near the fireplace, but hadn't gone into the fire; Ron found his underneath Crabbe's unconscious form.

Then, of course, we set out to the Forest to find Harry and Hermione, only to discover that they had already taken care of things and were ready to set off without us. Both Ginny and I weren't ready to let that happen, and we told him so. It took Harry a long time---until he became head of the Auror Division---to figure out that leading a team into battle is much better than going in alone. At the time, I cursed his inability to see simple logic. Now, I appreciate his unwillingness to let any of us die. I think he knew that the chances were exceedingly good that one of us would die were we to follow him, and so he wanted to keep us safe, but he forgot that we knew that too, and were fully ready to do that for him.

As Luna led us to the Thestrals, I finally realized the Sorting Hat's wisdom in placing me in Gryffindor. This was the defining moment in my history; had I not been a Gryffindor, I never would have gotten this chance, nor the other, less important moments (attacking Malfoy at the Quidditch game, standing up to Harry, Ron, and Hermione before they went after the Sorcerer's Stone, defending Harry's sanity countless times to Seamus and Lavender at the beginning of the year, and so on). I arrived at Hogwarts with that seed buried within me, and now that it had been allowed to germinate and burgeon, it was growing into a strong, hardy plant, although the species of which I did not know at the time.

It was this renewed confidence in myself that allowed me to shrug aside the depressing memories of my grandfather's death when we came upon the Thestrals. We had gone to Muggle London for our monthly "Get Away from Gran" outing, and as we were crossing the street, a car didn't stop in time and hit him, full-on. I remember him pushing me out of the way at the last second, taking the full brunt of the crash while I suffered only a bruise from hitting the street the wrong way. I watched as he bled onto the street, smiling eerily in his death. Somehow I had the presence of mind to take his wand from him and rub the pendant that Gran insisted I carry with me whenever we went into Muggle London. It was enchanted with a Protean Charm, much like Hermione's D.A. galleons. I still haven't gotten rid of either trinket---they sit on my desk in my office, proud reminders of the past.

The ride to London allowed me to regain my senses and mull the plan over in my head. I still had absolutely no idea how we were ever going to pull this off without dying in the process, but if anybody had Fate on his side, it was certainly Harry.

Indeed, we went quite a long way without any interference, until the Prophecy Room. Then things got ugly.

In all the hubbub I found myself separated from Ginny, and Ron and Luna. When we met again I wished that I had learned healing spells (they were reserved for seventh year because of what they can do to damage the body, but still) so that I could help them out. One by one, it seemed, everybody was going down: Hermione, to the purple slashing curse; Ron, somehow bewitched and then attacked by the brains; Luna, knocked out; Ginny, down but not quite out. I watched them fall and yet I could do nothing about it, because we had to go on, had to keep going, had to keep pushing.

In the end it was just Harry and I left, and when everything was seemingly at an end, I realized that I was probably going to be the one that died on this mission. I was proud, exceedingly proud, that I had made it this far. I was the last one standing, the only one who had come in with a gameplan of Summoning objects to interrupt curses I didn't know or couldn't dodge, and I was ready to die as a martyr to the cause, just like Cedric and countless others had.

Instead, we were saved by the Order of the Phoenix, and in the confusion, the Prophecy got smashed and my wand destroyed. At the time, I cursed my inability to protect them, wishing that I had done more to secure both of them when they were within my hands. I later learned that it was probably the best thing that could have happened, as it forced Voldemort to attempt other means to retrieve the words of the Prophecy, and also allowed me to get a wand that actually had picked me as its owner, instead of the other way around. (It was also around this time of my adolescence that Trevor suddenly stopped running away.)

As I was the least injured of the six of us, I received the honor of informing each person, as they woke up, what had happened to them and to the rest of us, but they didn't wake up for a while. I was left to my thoughts in the Hospital Wing, mostly alone, and naturally they drifted to the girl in the bed beside me: Ginny.

The year had progressed and Ginny and I had kept our friendship going, even meeting with Luna every now and again---at least, until Umbridge's decrees made that nearly impossible. There were times when my subconscious refused to let go of the idea that she might be into me, but much like she had with Harry, I pushed whatever my subconscious felt for her deep inside of me, like you do when you plant Bubotuber seeds. There were more important things, like class, O.W.L.'s, and the D.A., that required my attention more fully.

So I informed each of them, except for Harry, as they awoke, of the circumstances that had transpired that night. Luna, first to awaken, accepted them with her somewhat otherworldly countenance and told me that I should really get some sleep. Hermione questioned me intensely about what happened to Harry, but even moreso regarding Ron, and after that fell into a fitful rest, positioned in between her two boys. About two hours later, Ron relieved her worries when he awoke at last, all grins. He didn't want me to tell him about what had happened to him, only what Ginny and Hermione had done. His pride for both of them, although different, was obvious to me, and if Luna and I hadn't been there, I think Hermione and Ron would have started snogging right then and there. It had seemed that, at long last, they had discovered their true affinity, although both were suddenly too shy to do anything about it. I thought they were just being silly.

Ginny was the last to awaken, before the thoroughly exhausted Harry. All of us combined to regale her the epic tale, each of us telling our own portions as best as we could, until it got to the showdown at the end where only I could narrate. Ginny kept shining eyes on me the entire time, and when I finished, she reached up and gathered me into a hug.

"I'm proud of you, Nev," she whispered into my ear as we broke apart shortly thereafter, both of our bodies still tender after healing.

"Yeah, mate, you did great," Ron chipped in, beaming. Hermione nodded her approval, smiling, and Luna said something about slithy toves that I didn't really understand but appreciated nonetheless. They all seemed very happy for what I had done, and for the first time I allowed myself to think that perhaps these five people were more than allies---perhaps they could even be called friends.

I mulled that over during the summer and found myself generally agreeing that they were now my friends; after all, friends did things for each other and usually got things in return, and that was really what an ally was if you stopped to think about it, just that friends spent time with you when you didn't need anything out of them. Reconciled with that notion, I hit the books hard and came back to Hogwarts for my Sixth Year feeling more ready than ever to succeed, especially with my encouraging O.W.L. results.

Things got worse with Snape running Defense classes, but I was able to offset it with Herbology Club, and that really helped. Now that I was one of the older students in the Club, I was allowed to work with the most dangerous plants Professor Sprout had, and became one of her trusted confidants as the year progressed. She taught me just about everything she knew that year, and at the time I didn't quite understand why, but I do now: she knew that war was here, and that she could very well be the next one to go. Professor Sprout assembled her best students, just like Professor Flitwick did with Charms Club, McGonagall with Transfiguration Club, Slughorn with the Slug Club, and even Trelawney with Lavender and Parvati. They desperately searched for replacements to instruct the next generation, and I found myself honored to be among those Professor Sprout thought worthy of being her successor.

My nights, therefore, usually consisted of Herbology Club and study sessions with Luna and Ginny, who were frantically revising for the O.W.L.'s, even early in the year. Things got a little heated, at times, Ginny going so far as to pull her wand on Luna once, when we were in one of the empty classrooms working on Third Year Charms. They had been discussing a point about Weakening Solutions, of all the unrelated things, which grew into a debate and then a heated attack on one another's intelligence. Ginny pulled out her wand, fully ready to Bat-Bogey Luna into next week, but Luna had Ginny in a headlock so fast that I could have sworn she had used a Time-Turner. I pulled them apart, and they reconciled almost immediately. In fact, it almost brought them closer together; suffering and breaking under the same pressures seemed to do that to people, oddly enough. Passion was a curious creature indeed.

They never got angry with me, though, mostly considering that my own O.W.L. experience was invaluable to them, but they did get annoyed sometimes---but as soon as I noticed things getting tense between myself and Luna or Ginny, I changed the subject or relented my point. As I've said before, I don't want to invoke the Weasley temper, and nobody really knows what bounces around in Luna's strange mind. She's not a Ravenclaw for no reason, at any rate.

So Sixth Year passed without much incident, again, at least for me. Ginny moved on from Michael to Dean, listening to my advice from two years past, but that failed to develop into anything concrete. Secretly, I found myself relieved, as it meant that Ginny's dream was still kept alive. Harry had still found nobody interesting in his life, having cast aside Cho like yesterday's rubbish long ago, and when Ginny finally became free at the same time, I recognized what could happen.

Naturally, I told Ginny about my observations.

"I told you, Neville, I'm over him," she said gently, patting my arm, "But it's very sweet of you to be trying to find a date for me. Speaking of which," she started, grinning wickedly, "Have you asked Luna out yet? I think you two would really hit it off."

I had made the mistake of telling Ginny once that I had thought Luna had a cute smile---which was the truth, but it didn't mean I was attracted to the girl---and ever since then she had been trying to put us together. She ignored the fact that Luna was head-over-heels with Ron, claiming that she just liked to have fun with him and that it was a front for her real feelings. I wondered how much of that argument really pertained to her instead of Luna, but didn't voice it. There were some things I didn't tell anybody, even Ginny. Especially Ginny.

In the end, Luna and I went on two very awkward dates around the school (as visits to Hogsmeade were cancelled), whereon the second one I brought her a box of chocolates that I had Owl-ordered from Honeydukes. She accepted the present with her usual illucidity, but then she turned to me as we were walking back from the Room of Requirement, quite serious indeed.

"You'd much rather be giving these to someone else, Neville," she informed me, pressing the box gently back into my hands.

"What?" I managed, somewhat dumbfounded. Luna always knew how to put people off, even her friends.

"These dates have been nice, really, but I'd much rather us be friends, and so would you. I know," she said, smiling serenely.

"You're right, Luna. I'm sorry," I apologized, taking the chocolates.

"No, it's quite all right, Neville. It was very sweet of you," she affirmed, folding the wrapping paper and putting it in her robes, "And I always love wrapping paper. It's so much shinier than normal paper, " she enthused, still smiling. We walked in silence for another minute or so before I broke the silence.

"D'you think this'll get Ginny off our backs?" I asked, deciding to go for the cheerful approach. Luna laughed.

"Goodness, I sure hope so! I love her, really, I do, but she simply cannot stand to see anybody alone. Except herself. Poor thing," she added, quietly.

"We should try and set her up," I suggested. She stopped and looked at me curiously.

"Are you sure?" she asked, almost tentative.

"Why not? Harry's free, Ginny's free, they're obviously meant for each other...what could be better?" I asked. Truly, what could be better? I meant what I said without any bitterness; Ginny and Harry together was just...right. Besides, they were the fools who believed in true love and all of that nonsense, something about which I still found unsettling.

Luna gave me that piercing look for a little longer, as if she was trying to peer into my soul, then nodded.

"I'll work on Ginny, you work on Harry," she said simply, and as we departed at the landing for our different Towers, I wondered how in the world I was going to get Harry to notice Ginny.

In the end, it took far less effort than I thought. I occasionally brought Ginny up in conversation when I was with Harry, and at meals I would consistently ask her to pass me some random thing I usually didn't want when I knew Harry was in earshot. Luna, for her part, engaged in some girl talk, trying to convince Ginny that she should just go after Harry and stop playing hard to get, which Ginny vehemently denied doing.

Then, one day, the two of them were suddenly together. I received few details, at first, as Ginny had even restrained from chatting with Luna about it, but after a bit I learned all the juicy stuff from Luna, and, later, from Ginny herself. We were still friends, of course, and although she spent a lot of time with the boyfriend she had wanted for so long, she still found time to talk to me. Although, usually it happened to be at study sessions, with Luna kowtowing along, which I didn't mind. She had become a sort of comrade-in-arms for me, and it was nice knowing that we could work together, the three of us, and achieve great things.

This proved especially vital the night of the Infiltration. Hermione sounded the call on the D.A. coins and Luna, Ginny, and I came running, almost literally, from our study session. Ron shared with us the Felix Felicis that Harry had left behind, and so the five of us set out together to defend Hogwarts from the intruders. We did fairly well together, with the help of the potion, although it was clear that Hermione and Ron worked better together than with any of us. Oddly enough, it was Ron's aggressive "Stun now, ask questions later" method that kept Hermione from losing her focus as she used her subtler, more clever spells to hoodwink her enemies. She watched Ron's back as he charged ahead, far better at distracting attention by being a threat than he was. If I could've watched them fight, I would've, but I had been busy at the time.

Ginny's offensive onslaught must have been terrifying for our opponents. A Fifth Year student with the ability to keep slinging spells with advanced wizards and witches twice or even three times her age must have surprised a couple of them, and Ginny curried that into her favor as well. Luna very calmly went about things, smartly using the environment around her to entrap and disarm her enemies. Several portraits had to be mended after Luna was done with them, using them to deflect more dangerous spells as I had done in the Department of Mysteries. As for me, I focused on mainly defensive maneuvers for all five of us, watching intently from under the cloak of a Disillusionment Charm. Numerous Shield Charms deflected spells they hadn't even seen coming, and as we were being assaulted from all directions, it was quite difficult to watch every side. Once or twice a Death Eater would come after me, trying to see past the Disillusionment, and for his folly I would reward him with a good Stunner, up close and personal. McGonagall took four to the chest and lived, sure, but from long-range. I somehow knew, at that moment, that the Stunning Spell could hurt up close, and so I took advantage of that. Another tool to add to my arsenal, I decided.

The battle moved outside, eventually, and we met up with Harry along the way, just like the potion singing in our veins had told us we would. It was wearing off when we met, but as luck would have it that night, the Death Eaters were eager to beat a retreat as well, and so we were saved from more disastrous consequences.

After Dumbledore's funeral, Ginny came to me with both terrible and delightful news.

"Harry broke up with me," she blurted out, plunking down in our now-usual "relax-a-chairs" in the Common Room.

"No way! Why?" I asked, surprised. Harry broke up with Ginny? Something wasn't right here.

"He doesn't want me to get hurt. Bloody git," she muttered.

I understood immediately. It was Harry's "hero complex", as Hermione had once called it, rising to the forefront. I again cursed his illogical behavior.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," I told her. It was one of the few things that I could think of that was both the truth and that might help her. She didn't come to me expecting for me to tell her that Harry was going to take her back immediately. She didn't come to me expecting to be told that everything was going to be okay. She didn't come to me expecting anything but a listening ear, and that's what I wanted to convey to her that she had, and always would have.

She got the message; in a second, she was in my arms, crying, and I instinctually wrapped my arms around her, patting her back and letting her get the sadness out. Soon she would be angry, I knew, and hopefully she would go to Luna for satisfaction in that; I wasn't eager to throw magical darts at pictures of Harry or anything like that, because I didn't hate him. I wasn't jealous of him, either.

Any traces of jealousy that I had really vanished when he, Ron, and Hermione saw Gran and me at St. Mungo's, visiting Mum and Dad. It was then that I realized that Harry understood exactly what it meant to be an orphan and how you wanted to always impress your parents, no matter the cost, even if they couldn't see or understand your exploits. Thus any ill will I may have harbored for Harry at that point (and although I believed in him steadfastly, I did find myself sometimes wishing that I had his life, when things were going well for him) evaporated.

I really never wanted to be Harry after that moment, and for good reason, as his life seemed to deteriorate in that last year of the war. He, Ron, and Hermione were absent from Hogwarts, along with so many others, leaving very few to look toward for leadership in that dark place.

Ginny took me aside one night and impressed upon me how serious things had become.

"Neville, you know what you've got to do, don't you?" she asked. It had just been after Luna's particularly trying session with Alecto Carrow. I was forced to patch her up with the rudimentary healing skills I had learned, mainly from Herbology.

"What do I have to do, Ginny?" I echoed, annoyed. She had been a bit like this for days, bossy and demanding. It was like she was taking up Hermione's role in her absence.

"You've got to start up D.A. again," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Me?" I replied, my voice shooting up an octave.

"Yes, silly, you," Ginny shot back, lightly smacking me on the arm for my stupidity, "You've practiced with Harry every class, and you're the oldest one of us left from the Department of Mysteries battle," she explained.

"Ginny, you can't be serious. I can't lead you guys. This isn't just Umbridge this time, these are real Death Eaters. Ginny, this is dangerous!" I half-screeched. I wasn't ready for this. Ginny wanted me to put a target on my back? Forget it!

"I have faith in you," she whispered, stepping closer to take my hands, pleading with her eyes.

She really was a good actress.

"Fine, I'll do it," I agreed, and I could swear she almost burst from elation, "But you and Luna are helping me. I can't do this alone," I told her, grabbing onto her hands now for support.

In the presence of greatness, we learn how to be greater ourselves. Or at least that's what I told myself.

"You've got it, Nev," she agreed, "And I'm sure Luna will help, too. We're not going down without a fight in here," she affirmed, eyes blazing. I nodded.

"For them," I said simply, and started the plans.

It wasn't too hard, once I thought about it. The Death Eaters, for all of their knowledge in other, more gruesome areas, still remained hideously ignorant regarding the powers of the Room of Requirement. Then again, it could just be that the Castle itself was trying to help us by hiding it from them. Whatever the reason, we took up station there once more, just like old times, and recruited members as secretly as we could. It wasn't like the old days, not by far, but it was enough, and so I led the handful of rebels entrusted to my care as best as I could.

Ginny handled most of the technical aspects, including when and where to go for the next meeting (which was always the Room, but we acknowledged that that could change at any time if a Death Eater found it), who was or wasn't a member, and the updating of the Protean Charm on the galleons. Luckily, it wasn't as difficult a spell when a currently in-place charm was being altered, so Ginny could handle it with relative ease. Ginny also taught all the members the importance of physical capability in a duel, noting how effective dodges, rolls, twists, and even the occasional pirouette could save lives. Of course, she also covered the 'seven deadly spots' where you could hit a guy to incapacitate him. That was a particularly flinch-worthy class.

Luna guided the younger charges in the easier exercises while I handled the older students. It was best for Luna, a naturally creative spellcaster, to show the younger students how to duel with what they knew. A well-timed Dancing Jinx could disable an opponent just as easily as a Stunner could. She taught them to use the environment around them (something I think the Room enjoyed) to their greatest advantage and to always be aware of everything. Losing focus in a duel, she stressed, was a deathly mistake.

For my part, I acted as the figurehead, the last of Potter's men, so to speak. The older students recognized that I knew what I was doing pretty quickly after I demonstrated my Patroni with Ginny and Luna, then dueled them at the same time during our first class. It wasn't easy, and I almost lost, but Ginny dodged the wrong way once and I caught her with a Summoning Charm. She slammed into Luna, both their wands went flying, and I bound them with Incarcerous before they could recover effectively. My acumen seemed to convince them, then, and so they stayed on to learn with and from me, which usually consisted of defensive spells with the occasional offensive lesson by Ginny.

We always ended the session with a few minutes of _Potterwatch_ to help us all feel a little better about our comrades-in-arms who were fighting outside of the prison the school had become. I worried about Dean, particularly, who was on the run, but my heart went out to all of them who were forced to flee from the disgusting decrees sent down by the Ministry.

I was very happy with the group when Christmas came around. We had advanced to a level where everybody could manage something in defending against a Dementor, and nobody took a single curse willingly, which was something I had to snap out of them. People were confident they could handle things like Leg-Locker for the greater good of being able to counterattack their opponent more quickly, but time and time again I reminded them that Death Eaters use the Killing Curse first and ask questions later. That had convinced most of them.

The only oddity had been one of our covert missions, when we tried to recover the Sword of Gryffindor. We failed, and were caught by Snape, but he merely sent us to Hagrid instead of the Carrows. I didn't question his mercy, but I wondered why, surely. Dumbledore was dead; he had no need to continue the charade of being on our side any longer. I never did know just how much of a snake that man was, but at least he was an honorable snake in death.

When we returned from Christmas break, we were short a member. Luna had fallen, captured aboard the Hogwarts Express and imprisoned for her father's crimes. Where, we weren't sure, but all ears were open to find out why. Ginny and I clung together then, taking over Luna's attention-to-detail portions of the lessons with vigor. It was because we weren't vigilant enough to notice where and why she had gone (when we went to disembark, she told us she would catch us up, having forgotten her scarf, which she hadn't; she'd been Confunded when we weren't looking).

We lived for class and for each other's company, for it was lonely indeed without Luna and her ethereal quirkiness around to perk us up when we were ready to rip each other apart. It got tense sometimes, but I followed my rule of not standing up to Ginny, and it worked; she always apologized for the transgressions, anyway.

Then came Easter, and more disaster. The Death Eaters uncovered the Weasleys' ruse that Ron wasn't sick with spattergroit, and Ginny was forced to leave for her own safety. We barely had seconds to say good-bye to each other.

"Neville! Nev! Wake up, you lazy sod!" Ginny whispered in my ear.

I shot up, wand ready.

"Tell me something only Ginny would know," I demanded.

"You remember basil because it makes potions go boom if you add it," she quickly replied, not flinching a bit. I lowered my wand.

"What's up, Ginny?" I asked, fatigue threading across my body.

"They know about Ron. I've got to leave, now," she informed me, speaking fast, "They're waiting for me. I just had to say good-bye," she added.

"Where? What?" I stammered, completely lost. Ginny was leaving me all alone? I couldn't do it; losing Luna was bad enough, I couldn't lose her, too. I wouldn't!

"Sorry, Nev," she whispered, stepping in for a quick hug. I held her tight, clutching onto her as if she were my lifeline, but she broke away, ever the stronger.

"You can handle the galleons, right?" she asked. I nodded. It wasn't easy, but I had learned the Charm a couple of weeks ago on Ginny's insistence that I would need to contact everyone if something happened to her.

"Good," she mumbled, "Well, 'bye," she said lamely, and made for the door.

"Ginny!" I blurted just before she crossed the threshold. She turned around.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Be safe," I said seriously, holding her gaze as keenly as I could. I had wanted to say something else, something more important or profound, but my tongue had a mind of its own. I blame my subconscious.

"Always am," she said cheekily, grinning as she disappeared, and suddenly the room seemed all that much more darker.

So I led the resistance, alone, for as long as I could. Thankfully, it wasn't long until word came that it was time for the Light's final stand. I did my part, assembling those whom I could, and made sure to help Harry as best as I could. I was overjoyed to be reunited with old allies from the past and present, but the most pleasure came when Luna and Ginny tackled me together, a true group hug. We were a trio of our own, I realized, with bonds as strong as Harry, Ron, and Hermione. It had been an odd road, but we had arrived at our destination.

Ginny fumed about not being able to join the fight, but I knew she would find a way, as would Luna. Nobody kept them down for very long; and, indeed, when Harry needed the Room, out she and Luna came, ready to fight. When we could, we stuck together, fighting down the evils that came our way. As it had been when we fought the year before, I defended, Ginny attacked, and Luna lured. It wasn't easy, but we fought, and we were determined to win. With all of the allies the Light had recruited to make our last stand, how could we not?

We could not win, I learned, when we lost Harry. I knew that, as plain as day, but before he died, he had told me about Nagini. I had a task to perform, and I was going to be damned if I let my own death, or Harry's, keep me from that.

So I confronted him. Stood in front of him and told him off, right then and there. My former self would've fainted dead away, but here I was, standing tall.

Inspired by my confidence, the rest of the Defenders refused to give up as well, and through my old friend, the Sorting Hat, I took Nagini out---for Harry's memory.

Then all hell broke loose, and I barely had time to think before I had to move, move as fast as I could, and I saw Harry amidst it all but I couldn't focus on him because there were spells coming at me from every direction.

A familiar shield snagged a Stunner coming for my head, and a Reductor Curse deflected a Killing Curse heading my way. Somehow, in the carnage, Ginny and Luna had found my side again, and so we worked together until we were separated again by necessary dodging. Bellatrix found Ginny, and although Luna and I battled to get to her, we were too late: somebody else had. Molly Weasley stormed in like an inferno and, with considerable effort, killed the infernal woman at long last.

When the battle ended, Ginny, Luna, and I stood together. We battled, we won, and all was well. When we were convinced that we could let our guard down, we hugged each other, fatigue overwhelming us at long last as we stumbled about the wreckage hand-in-hand-in-hand, helping transport fallen comrades when we could and checking up on our closest friends.

Our time together ended rather quickly after that.

I moved on to the Ministry, working under Minister Shacklebolt. Luna became a naturalist of sorts, almost a Magizoologist, which seemed funny and fascinating to me all at once. Ginny played Quidditch and lived happily ever after with Harry. Just as it should have been, it was.

I've learned that love is indeed a fickle thing. It doesn't know what it wants all the time, but when it does, it latches onto it and refuses to let go for anything. So today, as I have every year since Luna gave them back to me, I pull out the box of chocolates that I've stored under a Preservation Charm and remove the last one. I find an owl, who takes it to Ginny with a note expressing birthday wishes and that I will most certainly be at the party tonight in her honor.

As I stare at the now-empty box, something inside of me says to throw it away and go buy another box. I almost listen until my subconscious---which I realize now is truly the voice of love---comes up with a better idea.

I Shrink the empty box to the size of a normal paperweight and set it amongst the treasures on my desk: the D.A. galleon, Gran's pendant, my box of Drooble's wrappers, a snapshot of the new D.A., and Pomona's rusty keyring. I look at my assembled relics and smile.

I am a fool, I tell myself, a ruddy fool.

My smile widens.


End file.
